Punch: Punch (81.1881)

64

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 13, 1881.

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED PROM

TEE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

Monday, August 1.—House of Lords full to-night, but chiefly of
words. Wonderful what tremendous long speeches noble Lords
make when they get a chance.

" Don't often get one," Lord Ceanbbook says ; " only about once
in three years, when something 's going to be destroyed. Then have
the privilege of the Dying Oladiator, and are permitted to salute
CiESAE in a few words before finally caving in."

The few words grow into many. Doesn't seem to be the thing
in the Lords to speak under an hour. Lord Denman and Lord
Steatheden and Campbell look on, and shake their heads mourn-
fully whilst the Marquis of Wateefoed pours forth a level torrent
of illimitable speech.

"They never listen to me like that," Lord Steatheden says,
" although I changed the cut of my coat to meet their prejudices,
and though the topics I deal with are much more important."

" And once they counted me out," says Lord Denman, with a tear
in his voice. "And when I do speak, the newspapers never say
anything more than ' After a few words from Lord Denman.' "

Lord Wateefoed certainly is making the most of his innings.
Seems that somebody is going to give somebody else "a lease for
ever ; " but that's no reason why his Lordship should go on for ever.
Benches rapidly thinning. Lord Salisbtjet solitary on the front
bench, and beginning to wish he had let the Duke of Richmond
take the place of Leader. A garland of Ladies runs round the
sombre House.

'' They sit there like Patience in the Gallery yawning at Watee-
eoed," Lord Dunbaven says.

Comicallest effect on the steps by the Throne where sit Stafeoed
Nobthcote, W. H. Smith, and Lord John Mannees. Noethcote
in the middle. Steps are low, and the three sit motionless with
their knees curiously huddled up, staring vacantly into space.
Fancy they're asleep. Very pleasing at first to ears aweary with the
eloquenceof Gladstone, and affronted by the constant cheering of
the majority, to come into this place and hear without contradiction,
how bad is the Bill, and how black the outlook. For first hour or
two enjoyed themselves thoroughly. Then a sense of peace and rest
stole over them, and like three storm-tossed mariners wrecked on
Lotos Land, they wrapped them round with the poppy and the
mandragora distilled from speeches two hours long, and sleeping,
dream that Mr. Bbadlatjgh is running off with Mr. Gladstone on
his back, that Randolph and Mr. Healt have gone on a provincial
tour with a cheap-jack establishment, and that the Irish Land Bill
has been withdrawn.

Business done.—Second Reading of Land Bill in the Lords.

Wednesday.—Came down a little early to-day, thinking to bring up
my correspondence^with my 'constituents before Speakee took the

Chair. Curious coincidence;
same idea occurred to every-
body else. The lobby, which
at this hour on ordinary
Wednesdays, is a wilderness,
crowded with Members ; all
standing about chatting and
thinking that, well now,
they'll go into the Library
and bring up their corre-
spondence with their con-
stituents.

Just as I was going, who
should enter but Mr. Bead-
laugh ! Haven't seen him
lately. Walked in with hasty
step towards the door. Oddly
enough here was Mr. Ees-
kine, ;Deputy-Sergeant-at-
Arms, on his way to his room,
I suppose, to write up his cor-
respondence. Also half-a-
Mr. Snodgrass Eradkugli <■' about to begin." dozen messengers, and as
(Vide I'ichwick, Ch. xxiv.) many Police wrapped in silent

meditation, wondering why,
amid all this bringing in of Bills, no one introduced a measure
permitting Police in uniform to buy postage-stamps at the rate of
thirteen for a shilling. Mr. Beadlaugh stood stock still in the
middle of the Lobby, folded his arms, threw back his head slightly
on one side, as if he were about to have his likeness taken.

" Looks like Napoleon crossing the Alps," said Mr. Montague
Scott, who, after looking all about the Lobby for a sycamore .tree,
had climbed up one of the pillars and surveyed the scene at his
ease.

No use going to write letters now. Speakee be here in a minute.
Everybody waited. Presently came the Speakee, bowing right and
left to the parted throng. Captain Gosset carrying the Mace with
one eye shrewdly fixed on Beadlatjgh, who may have called for it.
But Mr. Beadlatjgh smiles with friendly recognition on the Sergeant
with whom he has had many a pleasant promenade up and down the
floor of the House. Looks as if he would shake hands with the
Speakee, and finishes by bowing bareheaded like the rest. Speakee
gone in; prayers going on. But congregation remain outside. Per-
haps we '11 go and write our letters yet, and it's no use disturbing
the House by entering and leaving.

"Mr. Speakee in the Chair!" Then Mr. Beadlatjgh makes a
forward movement. Mr. Montague Scott begins to wish he hadn't
got on the pillar. He has cried "Oh! Oh!" against Mr. Bead-
laugh ; he has voted against him, and has consorted with Randolph
and Waeton, and other eminent devotees. What if Beadlaugh is
now going for him with intent to lift him off the pedestal and per-
adventure walk off with him ? Much relieved to see him make for the
door and the Deputy-Sergeant-at-Arms. " Eeskine's paid for it,
dontcha," as Montague said, when subsequently relating his per-
sonal experiences.

The door closed and barred. Mr. Eeskine stands squarely up, and
Mr. Beadlaugh continues his advance. Whereupon the messengers,
roused from their meditation, fall upon him. The policemen, for-
getful of their unfinished correspondence, close in upon him, and
before Mr. Scott could scramble off the pedestal, Mr. Beadlaugh
was hustled towards the door, through which he disappeared, the
centre of a mass of flushed faces, clenched hands, disordered neck-
cloths, and stumbling feet.

"ouch a gettiif down-stairs! "—Alas' poor Messenger !

No use now to go and write letters. Members stream into the
House, others go pell-mell down the staircase after the intermingled
mass of limbs, above which the red face of Mr. Beadlaugh burns
like a beacon. In the House matters go on with a pretty affectation
of there being nothing the matter outside. Someone asks a ques-
tion about the Transvaal. The Peemlee replies amid a murmur
of voices. Then Mr. Beadlaugh's faithful colleague brings forward
the matter on a question of privilege; and whilst the Speakee is
delivering his judgment on the case submitted, we can hear the
sullen roar of the multitude outside who have just caught sight of
their hero panting, hatless, dishevelled, with his coat torn, and his
stylographic pen broken.

Mr. Biggae's prophetic eye looking into the future, beholds the
possibility of an undesirable precedent being established. AU Mr.
Biggae's social and religious principles are hostile to Mr. Beadlaugh.
But statesmen must take a broad view of questions, and Mr. Biggae,
with his thumb in the arm-hole of his waistcoat and his right hand
extended to command attention, speculates on the probability of this
hustling of an obnoxious Member becoming "a precedent." The
House placing itself with its accustomed quickness at Mr. Biggae's
point of view, beholds in the dim future that estimable Gentleman
borne shoulder high down the staircase by four messengers and a
fringe of policemen. A hearty and prolonged burst of laughter breaks
in upon the proceedings which, to tell the truth, had been a trifle
tragic and a little sombre.

Business done.—Mr. Speakee's action re Beadlaugh approved.
House in Committee on Supply.

Thursday Night.—The Lords have got the Land Bill all to them-
selves now, and are gnawing it as if it were a toothsome bone. After
weeks of anguished watching from the gallery in the other House,
after seeing without power of protest all sorts of restrictions on